


Welcome To 1986

by lethargicshadowlover



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Confusion, England - Freeform, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Secrets, activist marinette, adrien is scottish, because i love the idea of it, because it fits my idea, but I must warn, different country, eighties AU, homophobic slang, i am trash, lots and lots of ladrien, not intended to be offensive, rather than france, set in Britain, sweet innocent adrien, tags will be added as i go along, yes I like university AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6439027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicshadowlover/pseuds/lethargicshadowlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his first few months at Southampton University, 19-year-old student Adrien Agreste is only just settling into his new environment; new concepts, new people, new place. From how things are going, he doesn't think his life could change anymore. But that's before he meets the activist and anarchist Ladybug, and only then does he find his true calling, realising that not everything the world has to offer can be taught in a lecture hall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From North to South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is just sort of an introduction to Adrien's character in this AU, as he is a bit more open and less shy. So I wanted to give background before the rest of the story kicks off in the next part :)

“Excuse me. I’m sorry,” muttered Adrien for the thirteenth time as he weaved his way through the bundles of people on the platform edge, trying his best _not_  to whack anyone else in the face with the gigantic brown backpack thrown across his shoulders. Tip-toeing his way through hordes babbling civilians—whether they were stood still or rushing as he was—was no longer half as much stress as it had been to begin with.

Still, the journey from his home to Southampton Central station had taken way longer than he had anticipated, snowballing down hill from the moment he missed the same ferry he’d waited to board for years.

Since the age of about thirteen, Adrien had loathed the place where he had lived. It wasn’t that it wasn’t a lovely place for it was stunning, plus Portree’s close-knit community and breathtaking scenery were a force to be reckoned with. But none of that changed the seclusion that was brought by living on the Isle of Skye, Scotland.

His father had always told him that he should consider himself lucky; Portree was the largest settlement on the island and it was easy for him to go to school, so he should be grateful that he had such opportunity and privilege. Of course, the old man was right, and he _was_  grateful, but at the same time he was secluded.

It was rare that he ever left the island for the mainland. As he watched his peers start to leave the nest as they grew older, some dropping out of high school as they turned sixteen to flee the Isle of Skye in hope for an exciting new twist, he grew more and more trapped. At age sixteen he was forbidden to leave for more than a day by his father, so was never even offered the chance to see the world with his supposed friends.

Instead, he stayed put and studied hard. Every day while others his age were out getting drunk in alleyways and finding their own way, Adrien could be found at his desk; his only company textbooks, novels and the posters that plastered his walls.

It was no surprise that he got straight A’s in his exams, far better than most of those around him. In comparison to many young adults in that year—1985—he had done shockingly well.

At eighteen-years-old his father’s grip had loosened, not by choice but because it was only Adrien’s right. So, at the first opportunity he got, he was off and applying for university as he’d been dreaming of for years…

What he hadn’t been expecting was how far away it would take him from his little Scottish hometown.

Six different bus routes, four train-lines and he still hadn’t reached his destination but boy, was he close—so close he could taste it.

But he had to navigate his way through the swarms of people before he could get any further, and this was proving to be a challenge.

“Excuse me,” he repeated, worming his way through a crowded door. As he was met by a much less busy space he visibly deflated at the calm, and hauled his aching limbs across the floor and to the taxi rank at the edge of the station. Hopefully from there he could spot a nearby bus stop, and from there start the final leg of his journey from his little town of Portree to Southampton’s—the big costal city’s—university. 

* * *

 

The hinges of the front door creaked as someone on the other side slowly pulled it open. Quickly Adrien swiped his keys from where he’d inserted them and slid them back into the pocket of his black trench coat, biting nervously at his lip as if to make up for his awkwardness.

In front of him stood a tanned young man, leaning against the threshold with a gentle smile and a tired expression. His dark eyes were framed by thick, black glasses, and his hair pushed out of his face by a baseball cap with a design on it Adrien didn’t at all recognise.

“So which one are you?” he asked softly in a laid back tone. “The Scotsman or the other one?”

“Scotsman. I didn’t even know there was another one,” Adrien replied with a smirk, biting his lip as he realised how thick his accent really was in comparison to the other man’s voice. “Adrien,” he added. “You are?”

“Nino. It’s good to meet you.”

Adrien grabbed Nino’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly, beaming from ear to ear. “Brilliant to meet you too, Nino.”

The blonde knew how overexcited and pathetic he sounded, but he was at the point where he didn’t care. He’d come all this way to make friends, meet new people, see new things, and he was going to go about it however he wanted.

Still, that didn’t stop him from blushing and apologising when he saw Nino rubbing his hand and wincing.

Fortunately, Nino only laughed. “It’s alright.” He beckoned Adrien in, asking him to follow. “There’s two rooms left so take your pick. Whichever one you don’t have, the other guy will be stuck with.”

“Oh, I’ll have whichever one’s smallest.”

Nino froze and turned to him, mouth gaping open in a confused smile. “Why  on Earth would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Adrien, timid and blushing. “I grew up in a pretty big but empty house, so I choose wee, cosy spots now over large.” He shot the man opposite him a pitiful smile. “My father’s pretty affluent.”

“Pretty _what_?”

“Affluent.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

With a chuckle and a sigh, Adrien flopped his bag onto the wooden table in the kitchen. “He’s really wealthy. He actually _likes_  Thatcher.”

“Impossible,” laughed Nino.

“No, really, it’s true!”

Adrien’s accent only thickened the more he laughed, which seemed to really amuse Nino. For the next half hour the pair leant on the kitchen counters, chatting and drinking tea like civilised people; like _friends_. It made the young Scottish man’s heart leap, and his grin widen by the minute. The first friend he’d made seemed to be one well worth keeping, and one that genuinely wanted him around. Call it needy, but that meant the world to Adrien.

As he checked his watch and he stretched out his aching limbs, he yawned. “Right well, I suppose I’m going up to sort out my room and have a shower. I’m knackered.”

“You’re not allowed to be knackered, mate! It’s first week—first week is always shock-a-block with parties.”

Sighing the blonde grabbed his bag. “Well, tough. I am knackered. Plus, it’s just for tonight, I’ll be out with you tomorrow if you want.”

“You’re just being a chicken.”

Yes, he was. It would be his first night there, it would be his first party, with his first promising friend and his first chance to make an impression on just about anyone. And knowing his god-awful luck, that impression wouldn’t be good.

“I’m not,” he lied. “Just ask the other bloke when he gets here.”

“I bet he’s going to be dull. His mum rang up this morning which says enough as it is, but I think he’s an art student, too.”

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. “So?”

“So he’s going to be one of _them_.”

“An art student?”

“No!” There was a pause of strange silence. “Well, _yes_ , but that’s not what I mean. I mean he’s probably going to be a hippy.”

 _Oh_.

Honestly unable to respond to the look of all out terror on his new friend’s expression, Adrien just chuckled and began to make his way up the stairs, wondering how it would be having to live with a hippy art student and a…

“Nino, what do you study?”

He stared down at Nino as the man whipped his head round with a grin, tossing in his hands a shiny, red apple. “Film studies.”

“Cop out…”

Adrien smirked before the apple that had been in Nino’s hands hurtled towards him, whacking him in the centre of his forehead without warning. He let it roll down the stairs and he belted out laughed, rubbing his forehead with grunts of pain every now and again.

“And what about you?”

“Mathematics and Philosophy,” he called back, making his way up the last few steps and round the corner.

“You’re an intelligent, pretentious, Scottish wanker, aren’t you?”

Grinning, the Scotsman stuck his head back round the corner to peer at Nino, messy blonde fringe tangled in front of his eyes. “If you say so, mate. When's this party then?"

From then on, like the look of joy on the face of the man at the bottom of those stairs, their mischievous friendship only grew.


	2. Red, Black & Mars Bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a few months after his arrival Adrien ventures out and meets a surprising, new person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare yourself for this AU's version of Ladrien (a sassy bug and a nervous Scottish boy), and what is the start of a lot of Scottish slang. I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> {update: it's been brought to my attention that there's a homophobic slur used in this chapter—not in a mean or rude way, and this doesn't reflect the characters or my opinion, but mostly reflects the carelessness of people with such things back then.}

Almost three months down the line from his first day in Southampton marked yet another day that Adrien had spent _away_ from all the excitement.

It was infuriating to him, as he wanted to go out—live and enjoy the new things that this city had to offer—but at the same time he was powerless. The way he’d conditioned himself for so many years to be a revising and learning machine always crept in and took over everything he ever seemed to do, meaning that first party Nino had taken him to had also been his last.

He had no issue with sitting alone in his room, listening to the satisfying crackle of his record player even after Phil Oakey had finished singing and he had to switch sides.

Now, for example, on his mattress (which rested on the floor since he’d given up his bed frame for the hippy guy who’s had broken the minute he sat on it) he leant against the wall, reading and squinting through his slightly rounded glasses at the ridiculous math problems that littered the page. Discarded beside him were the four philosophy books he was meant to study, already battered and read at least five times over each. He already knew it all back to front, could quote if asked and even if _not_  asked.

Adrien worked _way too hard_.

A gentle knock and a click snapped Adrien out of his concentration, making his head jolt upwards as the door gradually opened. There, stood Nino, two of Adrien’s most treasured, ugly sweaters thrown over his arm and a cup of tea in the other hand.

Smiling, Adrien put down his papers and sat forward. “Been to the laundrette?”

“I’m too good to you.”

“Aye, you are,” he agreed, reaching out for the tea, but instead getting a face full of jumper. “Are you doing anything later, cause if you’re not we could—”

“Stay in and listen to Genesis while eating Pot Noodles?” Nino laughed and set down the mug onto Adrien’s floor. He crouched down in front of his friend, clamping his hands firmly on his shoulders. “Sorry to burst your bubble, man, but: one, Phil Collins is irritating as fuck; two, you need to stop eating Pot Noodles and eat something with substance; and three, I’m not free. My girlfriend’s coming over.” He hopped to his feet with a satisfied smile.

Horror struck Adrien’s face. “Oh, no, Nino, _please_!” Rushing, he sprung to his feet and fell toward Nino, knocking over his tea in the process and muttering something explicit in response. “Man, please. You know how awkward it is for me and Nath when Alya comes round,” he complained, scrunching up his nose. “You guys just bosie and snog and…fuck on the sofa in front of us—”

“Okay, look, speak normally—it’s ‘cuddle’, not your stupid Scottish slang. Plus that was just _once_  and we were bladdered!”

“I’ll ‘bosie’ if I want to say ‘bosie’ and one is more times than I should’ve had to see, Nino!”

Nino rolled his eyes and bit rubbed his neck. “You could’ve just walked out, Adrien.”

“Shock had basically paralysed me and Nath was stoned so he wasn’t going _anywhere_. Just promise me you won’t put us through that again.”

“You mean _you_. Nath already left for home for Christmas.”

A shiver ran through his body as he looked at Nino. “What?”

“Yep,” laughed his friend. “Just you, me and Alya.”

Why did it have to be almost Christmas? And why couldn't people be like him and want to stay here, _away_ from their family, and help him out? Namely Nath...

Put simply, he was terrified. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Nino—he was his best and only true friend—and he quite liked his girlfriend, too. She was sassy and sweet, liked The Human League’s music almost as much as he did, and she was one of the very few people he’d actually spoken to outside of his housemates. Actually, she was much better company than Nathanäel, the ‘ginger hippy’ as Nino would often affectionately refer to him as.

As had been predicted the guy was a total hippy, and the ‘art student’ very rarely even went to classes. When he even entered the campus it was usually to stock up on the various recreational drugs he liked to take; something Adrien had been brought up to be insanely against. Over time, he’d calmed down about Nath’s addictions and strange tastes, and once he’d even gone along with his plans and gotten high with him and Nino.

Although he didn’t always want Nath to be there, spouting what Nino liked to call ‘Nath’s hippy bullshit’, when Alya was over his company was a blessing.

A nice guy and a very nice girl who were very much infatuated with one another were hardly the most desired company to be alone with.

“I’ll just hide upstairs.”

Nino grinned. “What? Go cry and listen to The Human League? Listen to Phil Oakey’s voice and have a good wank over Phil Oakey?”

“Oh fuck yourself, Nino,” whined Adrien, pulling off his glasses and hanging them from the hem of his red and black sweater. “They’re a bloody good band, and he’s a bloody brilliant man. Leave him alone.”

“Defending your crush are we, faggot?” It was clear Nino was trying to hide his laughter and he was doing an awful job of it, too.

In response Adrien gave him a punch on the arm. “Fuck you, I’m going out then.”

“Out?” his friend gasped. “Out as in outside? Away from work and shit records?”

Adrien didn’t respond, just pushed Nino out of his room in a rush of annoyance and disapproval. Through the door he shouted how he wasn’t a faggot, which only made Nino laugh more.

His whole plan had been to piss Adrien off to the point where he’d leave the house, and thankfully he succeeded. Admittedly, it wasn’t only for the sake of his friend who’s sanity had would soon be tested if he studied any harder than he already did, but also for the sake of himself and Alya.

Still, if anyone asked, he was helping Adrien out…as well as bagging himself a night without the droning noise of tacky synthesiser echoing from his friend’s room.

* * *

 

It was pretty obvious that Adrien had no idea to go. When he actually left the house, it was usually always with either Nino or Nath—the only time he was ever on his own was to stock up on Pot Noodles from the corner shop. But after a visit to that same corner shop, and picking up a handful of Mars bars and a ham sandwich, he was back out on the freezing streets of December.

The coastal wind whipped through the streets as he made his way towards the Common through road after road. He wished he was wearing more than the three layers he had on; a plain t-shirt, thick jumper, and the treasured coffee-stained corduroy jacket that was lined with thick faux fur. Somehow through it all he could still feel the constant chills, and cursed himself for forgetting his hat and scarf.

He made the most of his fingerless gloves, ripping open the first of the four Mars bars and stuffing the first half into his mouth as he finally stepped into the park, flopping down against a tree.

Now he was out here, out in the freezing cold, he wished he’d met people, made friends. Maybe then he wouldn’t be trapped out here on Southampton Common, alone with three-and-a-half Mars bars and a shop bought sandwich.

Pushing on his glasses, Adrien stared down at the piece of paper he’d scribbled five problems on before he left the house, and did his best to solve them in his head. It wasn’t much struggle, but was occupying enough to take his mind off the cold a little as he chewed on what felt like an endless supply of sugar.

“You might want to move.”

Like a shot he was craning his neck, looking up at the figure that towered above him, in turn finding him sucked into bright blue orbs that rained daggers down at him. His mouth went dry as he stared, admiring the red face-paint that was roughly smeared around her eyes and they deep berry lipstick that caked her slightly plump lips. Across her forehead from underneath a burgundy hood fell messy, black bangs that held a twinge of blue to them and she dressed in black and red head to toe. Including socks, noted Adrien.

Whoever this girl was, with her empowering look, leather-jacket with red stitching and combat boots that could crush him with one step, she was bloody awesome.

“Did you not hear me, four-eyes?” she said with a growing smirk. Her tone wasn’t rude as such, just snide, and Adrien could tell she was joking. Just as her eyebrows raised she crossed her arms across her chest and slumped to the side. “Seriously, move. Give it five minutes and half the city will be here.”

Adrien’s mouth faltered, trying for word after word. “But, um, I, er…I just got here.” 

The mysterious girl rolled her eyes and laughed. “So did I, and so will everyone else soon. Move it unless you’re going to join in.”

“Join in with what?” he asked helplessly. “I’m sorry, hen, but I don’t understand one bit.”

As he tore his glasses from his nose and hung them on his jumper’s neck as usual, he pulled himself to his feet and took another innocent bite from his Mars bar, looking up at her until he found that he towered over her. Being six-foot-three had it’s advantages, but it also made things awkward at times; mostly it just made Adrien feel bad for making smaller people crane their necks.

However, even though the girl in front of him wasn’t less than average in height, she merely stepped back to remain comfortable and somewhat authoritative. As she reached up a hand, her fingernails covered with black paint and ink stains, she grabbed her jacket’s lapel and pointed rather furiously. “Does _this_ ,” she said boldly, pointing at the largest badge of the many that littered the fabric—a ladybug pin, “mean anything to you? Answer your question?”

When Adrien looked at a loss and stood worriedly shaking his head, she sighed and carried on.

“Well, Jock, it seems as though you’re pretty new to the scene.”

“Indeed I am, hen,” he muttered, picking up his plastic bag and threading it onto his arm as he cautiously moved towards her. “By the way, rather than going with the typical dickhead, British move of calling Scottish guy ‘ _Jock_ ’, please for my name. I’ve heard it countless times now, and it’s boring me.” The blonde bit down on his lip and held out a shaking hand.

Why was it shaking? He wasn’t nervous, was he? Even if he was, it was very rare that his body would respond and show it.

“I’m Adrien Agreste.” His voice was soft, but firm, perfectly portraying his usual calm, collected and friendly side.

The girl in front of him cocked her head to one side. “Ladybug,” she said proudly, taking his hand and letting her darkly stained lips curve up into a smile.

Adrien spat out a deep laugh. “What kind of a name is that?”

“The name of someone who wishes for her identity to remain unknown to the public.”

“But the only thing obscuring your face is—no offence—really shitty face paint.” He blushed as he watched her eyes roll again, and let out a feeble, “Sorry.”

Ladybug shook her head. “It’s fine,” she laughed. “You’re right, but that’s just the look I go for. You might be surprised, but nobody’s figured me out yet and I’ve been here almost a year.”

“Again, not to be rude but I still haven’t the foggiest what you were talking about before.” He watched anxiously as she bit down on her bottom lip, smiling at him without making a sound. “What’s the matter?” he finally asked after a while of suffering in silent confusion.

She giggled. “It’s the way you say ‘about’.”

“About,” he repeated.

“Yeah, you say ‘aboot’.” Again her bottom lip was tight between her teeth as she looked away and back at him. “Your accent is great.”

With cheeks tinted pink and tore open his next Mars bar. “Okay?”

Stepping forward, Ladybug snatched the chocolate from his hand and took a large bite. “Thanks,” she purred. “And, by the look of you, you wouldn’t want to participate in my sort of thing, so I’m not sure if there’s point in telling you.” She stared to jog backward across the grass and onto a concrete path, the snarky grin on her face wider than her arms that stretched out.

“So you won’t tell me?” called out Adrien, almost disappointed by how little time he’d been able to spend with this painfully intriguing stranger.

“I won’t _tell_  you; but you can watch and learn!” One hand dug into the pocket of her black jacket, the other remaining out to salute him as she continued to increase the distance between them. “Enjoy the show, _Jock_!”

And as she walked, hood up and hips swaying, Adrien knew he was a goner. With his head spinning and stomach sick with confusion and a swelling of joy, this could only be a bad idea—letting himself get caught up and invested in an anonymous shadow—but she was so perplexing and exciting, unpredictable and bizarre he couldn’t stop himself.

Slowly he followed, eyes trained on her every step of the way, and so focussed he didn’t even notice when he’d finished his final Mars bar.

More importantly, he didn’t give a shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this. Leave a comment or kudos or whatever's good for you!
> 
> I love any kind of feedback in order to improve and find out what will make you guys happy and enjoy my writing me. Thank you!


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